


Cherry on Top

by RidingShotgun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Loves Pie, F/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Protective Dean Winchester, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RidingShotgun/pseuds/RidingShotgun
Summary: Y/N is relaxing at the bunker, waiting for the boys to get back from a hunt. Things do not go as expected.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Cherry on Top

The brothers had left you at the bunker, heading out for a short hunt. Dean refused to let you anywhere near a hunt, wanting to keep you out of danger. While you agreed with him to a certain extent, Sam’s reasoning of having faster access to the entire Bunker’s library of lore on hand compelled you to go along with their plan. Your days settled into a relaxed pace over the course of the week, alternating cooking new recipes in the kitchen with researching lore, doing yoga in the War Room, and checking in with the boys over the course of the week.

  
This time, it was Dean who picked up the phone. “Hiya, sweetheart. How’re things back home?” You smiled. That deep voice always set you at ease. “Not too bad,” you answered. “I’ve been workshopping a cherry bourbon pie recipe that I’ve found. The only problem is there aren’t enough people around this bunker to taste test.” You practically hear Dean shoot up straight at those words, and you hear Sam’s chuckle in the background. Dean lowers his voice into the phone. “Please tell me you’re serious about this. This better not be one of your pranks where you team up with Sammy behind my back, ok?” You giggle. “It’s as real as it gets Dean, I pinky promise. How are things going with the hunt?” Dean replies, “not too bad. We’re pretty sure it’s a shifter, and we’ve got a lead on its location. Shouldn’t take us too long to gank the bastard and be home later tonight. Do you need us to pick up anything for dinner or are you all good?” You pad over to your shopping list attached to the fridge and give him a quick run-down of the groceries that would be needed, thankful for the assistance with your shopping. You wish him goodbye and tell him to drive safely before hanging up.

  
You finally set in to work on what you hope will be your final version of the cherry bourbon pie. A while later, it goes into the oven, and it’s not long before the kitchen starts smelling of sugar, butter, and smoky, indulgent fruit. It smells downright sinful by the time it makes it out of the oven, and you estimate that by the time the boys get home it will be the perfect temperature to be served warm with a dollop of vanilla ice cream slowly melting on top.

  
While the pie cools, you leaf through the latest headlines, trolling for anything that might catch the boys’ interest in a few days once they’d cleaned up, reenergized themselves, and gotten the itch to go kick something in the ass. With one hand on your laptop, the other leafed through a sort of index you had created to potentially diagnose monster problems. You had categorized it by death types, and sub-categorized by region. You were fiercely proud of the index, and it had greatly improved Sam and Dean’s time spent on hunting trips, which worked in everyone’s favor.

  
You slowly began to get more and more absorbed in your work, eventually losing track of time. A few hours later, you hear a loud knock on the door, startling you. You look up, trying to return to reality. “Hello?” you call. “Hey, Y/N, it’s me!” you instantly relax hearing Dean’s voice. “Can you let me in? Sam went to go grab groceries, so he dropped me off but he has the key.” You’d already bounded up the stairs and unlocked the door for him. He grabs you in a big bear hug, lifting your legs off the ground. Setting you down, he winks at you. “Now how ‘bout that pie?” You grin, leading him to the kitchen.

  
On your way there, though, something felt off. The smile he had given you felt slightly too wolfish, and he’d been almost too close behind you as you walked down the stairs. By the time you’d reached the map table, you were about to turn around and confront him, but instead, he grabbed you by the wrists, spun you, and aggressively slammed you against the table. The impact was so intense you heard a loud crack in your torso, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins preventing you from feeling any pain.

  
When your gasps finally subsided a little, you ground out “Who...are...you” with gritted teeth. “Oh c’mon sweetheart, it’s Dean. Or, at least, someone he failed to kill. Maybe if he’d been walking around a little quieter I wouldn’t have been able to get such a good glimpse of him and create an improved imitation.” You freeze, suddenly realizing this must have been the shifter Sam and Dean were after.

  
Screwing your courage to the sticking place, you drove your elbow into the shifter’s gut. Wheezing, he fell back. You tried to make a break for it, but before you could, the shifter wrapped his hand around your ankle, sending you facefirst to the floor. Grabbing your ankle in both hands, a sickening crunch fills the air, and you know that it was broken.

  
“You’ll pay for that,” the shifter hisses as he yanks you back up by your hair. You are once again bent over the table, where you started, only now more injured. He roughly pushes your skirt up over your hips, hooking a finger into your panties to roughly rip them off you. The sting of the elastic still smarting, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out what was happening. The shifter’s booted foot kicks your legs apart unceremoniously. With one hand pinning you to the cold table below you, he uses the other to invade you, cruelly pushing a finger in and out of your hole. You feel his hot breath in your ear. “I was originally just going to kill you,” Dean’s smooth bass whispers to you. “But now that we’re here, let’s have a little fun, and I’ll decide to kill you fast or slow later.” A tear rolls down your cheek. Even though you know this isn’t really Dean Winchester, it’s still his mouth and his voice saying those things to you.

You hear his belt buckle come undone, steeling yourself for the inevitable, and then you hear the door to the bunker slam open. You hear Dean’s voice yell something, but much farther away than where the shifter is. Suddenly, the shifter is pulled off of you, and you fall to the floor as the weight transfers to your broken ankle. You turn your head and see Dean on top of himself, driving a silver blade into the heart of his double.

  
The pain from your rib and your ankle begins to flood your senses, and it’s all you can do to stay conscious. Sam rushes over to you. “Hey, hey, Y/N, it’s ok. We’ve got you. You’re gonna be ok.” The last thing you register is Sam cradling you in his arms and picking you up before the world tunnels down and fades to black.

  
You’re not sure if your ankle or ribs wakes you up first, but the searing sensation causes you to cry out with pain. You register that you are in your room in the bunker, safe and sound. Both brothers come running, but Dean rounds the corner first, face full of concern. In a split second, your body reacts to the sight of him, frantically attempting to get away from its remembered assailant. “Whoa, princess,” he soothes. “It’s just me, not that shifter. See? Silver.” With that, he pulls out a small silver ring, pressing it to the back of his hand, showing you how it did not burn him. He gently slips the ring onto your finger, explaining how you could use it any time you needed reassurance that it was actually him.

  
Finally, the two of you had built back enough comfort for you to allow Dean to check your injuries. Your rib and ankle were indeed broken, and there was also a nasty gash on your ribs from being slammed so aggressively into the table. You inhaled sharply as his warm hands skimmed along your skin while he redressed your wound. You played it off as pain to Dean, but it was more due to the sensation of his skin against yours. The two of you had never gotten physical, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, and it was impossible to deny that there was a certain chemistry between the two of you.  
A few mornings went on like this, where Dean would bring breakfast to you, check your wounds, and chat a little. Every time, you would use the silver ring he gave you to reassure yourself that it really was Dean Winchester, and not some shifter. On the tenth morning, as he sat on the corner of your bed you asked Dean, “did you ever end up trying the cherry bourbon pie? I don’t think it was damaged in the scuffle, and I worked too hard for it not to be eaten.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “‘Scuffle’ is a pretty interesting word for what happened back there. But yes, I did try the pie once I knew you were out of danger. And it was the best damn pie I’ve ever had.” He smiles sweetly at you, and your heart instantly melts.

  
Without thinking, you pull him in for a kiss. His pouty lips softly nip at yours, and his warm hands come to rest on either side of your face. You pull back for a second, wide eyes looking up at him. “Dean...I’m sorry...I,” he cuts you off. “Don’t be.” He leans in for a kiss, this time more insistent, running his hands through your hair and cradling the back of your head. You feel a coil start to tighten in your core and feel your center slicken. He gently lays you back on the bed, running his hands down your body. He stops at your waistband, emerald eyes looking up at you for the go-ahead. You huff out an agreement and toss your head back as he slowly slides your pants off your legs.  
He gently nudges your legs apart, peppering kisses along your inner thighs. He goes slowly and gently, making you want him more and more each time his lips make contact with your skin. He lazily draws his thumb over the top of your panties, You gasp and he repeats the movement until your wetness soaks through your underwear.

  
He smiles up at you. “So wet for me,” he whispers as he slowly nudges the satiny fabric of your underwear to the side. He barely pushes a single finger into you, making you moan. It’s delicious enough to make you want more, and nowhere near enough to give you relief. He removes his finger, and you whine at the loss of him. He once again barely enters you as you sigh contentedly. You try to sink down further but he pulls back. “Ah-ah, Y/N, we’re going at my pace today. You’re just going to have to sit back and enjoy the ride, darlin’.” With this, he hooks his fingers around your panties and slides those off of you as well.  
Returning back to his position between your thighs, he gently parted your folds with two fingers. You squirmed with pleasure as he licked a broad stripe from your hole to your clit. You couldn’t help but let out a guttural moan. He looks up at you. “That’s it,” he coaxes, “good girl”. His lips find your clit, and begin to gently suck at it while his fingers ghosted in and around your hole.

  
Your core tightens, and you feel as if you might come undone here and now. “Dean...I….please,” you gasp. He smirks up at you. “Use your words, princess.” “I...need..., fuck, Dean,” you stutter as he fully inserts a finger into you, causing you to lose all focus as your cunt spasms around his fingers. “Tell me what you need,” he practically purrs at you. “You, Dean, need you...inside me.”

  
Dean pulls back to remove his clothing, and you whimper, soaking in your want. He maneuvers you so your hips are at the end of the bed, making sure to be mindful of your injuries. His cock stands at full attention, long and girthy. Standing in front of you, he lines himself up at your entrance, gently pushing his cock against you. “Are you sure this is what you want?” His eyes meet yours and you nod softly, barely able to think of anything else other than how much you want him to fuck you.

  
With that nod, he slowly pushes into you, stretching every inch of you as he goes. You exhale sharply, relishing in the feeling of fullness. Once he is fully sheathed, he pauses and breathes for a moment. “Fuck,” he whispers, “so warm and wet and tight for me. I’ve been dreaming about this, sweetheart”. You can only moan in response, and your moan turns into a gasp as he slowly begins to pump in and out of you. He slowly begins to pick up his pace until he settles into a slow rhythm that has you writhing and moaning underneath him. He brings his thumb to your clit and begins to lazily draw circles around it as your breath quickens.

  
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take what you need, princess. I want to see you come undone.” His hips begin to move faster, and his thumb is rubbing more incessantly against your sensitive bud. The coil in your core grows tighter, threatening to snap. He runs his hand along your cheek, gently pushing his thumb into your mouth. You lick and suck at it, making him roll his head back and close his eyes. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he breathes.

  
Those four words are all you need, and you shatter under him, a moaning, shuddering mess. Dean is not far behind you, picking up his pace until his hips stutter against you and he comes with a groan. The two of you lay side by side in silence, still coming back to reality and your senses. You looked over at Dean.

  
“What did you mean when you said you’d been dreaming about this?” You asked Dean. “Exactly what I said, darlin’. There are no girls out there like you, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fallen in love with you from the minute you showed me that monster index,” Dean said, smiling at the memory of that day. He pauses. “That is ok, right? You don’t have to feel the same way back.” You smile, gently pulling him in for a kiss. “Of course I feel the same way, Dean Winchester. Now can you help me get up and get cleaned up? This ankle is a bitch,” you say. In response, Dean simply stands up and carries you, bridal style, to the bathroom.

  
A short while later, the two of you are freshly showered and in clean outfits, laying on the bed together, Dean lazily running his fingers through your hair. Both of you are basking in the bliss of the moment. Dean is the first to break the silence. “I was thinking,” he starts with a cautious voice. “If you’re feeling up to it today, maybe we could bake a pie together. That cherry bourbon creation was incredible, but it didn’t feel right eating it without you in the kitchen.” You smile at his hopeful expression and puppy dog eyes. “Of course we can do that, Dean.” You knew this would be the cherry on top to what was shaping up to be an incredible day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first ever fic, I hope you liked it!


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